


Real Gone

by Moransroar



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greasers, Coming Out, First Dates, First Kiss, Getting Together, Jock Jack, M/M, Miscommunication, Strangers to Lovers, greaser bitty, shitty is a good friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-27 13:02:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19013443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moransroar/pseuds/Moransroar
Summary: “Better keep an eye on him,” Shitty muses as down below, the coaches call everyone together to start the tryout process, and Bitty privately thinks he won’t have any trouble keeping his eyes onthat.





	Real Gone

**Author's Note:**

> Wonderful art by [Kittpurrson](https://kittpurrson.tumblr.com/) and BETA'd by my dear friend [Alex](https://moriartywantstoparty.tumblr.com/). Thank you!
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are much appreciated!

 

 

In the searing Southern sun, the top steps of the bleachers are the perfect place for a lot of things. Up high, on a good day, you can catch the breeze floating past, which means a slight reprieve from the sweltering heat of the first couple of weeks during the first semester. It is also the perfect spot to get in a bit of sunbathing in between chirps and the exchange of gossip and info on this one dolly Shits is always flipping over these days.

And during this time of year it is also _the_ place with the best view on the sports field, which is arguably the most important factor if you were to ask Bitty.

Just a couple of days before, Shitty had interrupted Nursey mid-sentence by jamming his elbow repeatedly into Bitty’s side and saying, “Hey hey hey, eyes on the track. There’s that new guy. Sick ‘do, man.”

All eyes are immediately on the field below where after-school practice is in full swing, and sure enough there comes a dark-haired new guy just around the curb of the tracks, following the bend towards the bleachers. He passes the group where they sit, and continues on down, and Bitty finds he can really appreciate someone walking away from him when that someone looks like _that_.

“Damn, he’s got a classy chassis, doesn’t he,” Nursey hums in light admiration. It’s exactly what Bitty’s thinking. He sure does. Just the guy’s ass alone…

“Flatter bum,” Bitty mutters before he can stop himself, and much to his surprise, all he gets for it is a couple of distracted, sympathetic nods. Sometimes Bitty wonders if he’s really the only one that falls out of the boat a little bit. If he’s the only fream in the bunch. Or maybe his friends can appreciate a pretty boy more than he ever thought they could.

It’s tryouts day, and there are a couple of freshmen doing their warmups on the field as well, but those aren’t even the least bit interesting when there is a literal God running the tracks. Nobody really knows anything about the guy yet but he looks to be about Shitty’s age, so the Wellies are counting on him to be their number one provider of deets. They immediately start speculating what his name might be, what kind of classes he’ll excel in, if he’s a soc or a bit of a fream. Does he fit in and is he ‘normal’ or will he have a hard time adjusting? Is he going to be trouble? He looks like the kind of guy that can go either way, really. Unpredictable, and as yet shrouded in uncertainty.

“Better keep an eye on him,” Shitty muses as down below, the coaches call everyone together to start the tryout process, and Bitty privately thinks he won’t have any trouble keeping his eyes on _that_.

 

 

Bitty finds out in the weeks that follow that Jack is two years his senior in age, and one in college terms, that he’s transferred all the way from Canada because his mother has business in the States and because there’s better football teams over here, and that he doesn’t seem to be making too much of an effort to make friends.

At lunch, Bitty spots him sitting alone more often than not, though after a week or two he’s joined by another guy from the football team. Shitty tells him they’re both Canadian. And after another week, Mr. Canadian #2 brings a friend along. He’s blond and wears glasses and he seems really chummy with #2. Slowly but surely, it appears that this friend group of his is growing a little, and Bitty recognizes most of them as jocks, all on the football team. It feels kind of good to see Jack sit with someone else for a change, and smile a little. He doesn’t seem like any kind of threat yet, and on any occasion Bitty had accidentally caught his eye, all he’d gotten at first were slightly puzzled looks, but now sometimes he even got a little smile.

Subconsciously, Bitty starts keeping an eye out for the guy. He tells himself it’s just because he’s a new guy, and new guys need to be monitored, and Shitty told him to be cautious, so that’s what he’s doing. It’s not because he’s got an ass that Bitty’s started daydreaming about or anything. He’s just being cautious for his own sake and for that of his gang. Zimmermann doesn’t exactly fall into the category of possible threats, but… His smile sure does.

Bitty thinks that he should probably back off a little bit but there is almost no avoiding the other. It’s like everywhere he goes he just automatically finds himself in Jack’s near-direct line of sight. Wherever Jack is, there’s a big chance that Bitty is nearby somewhere. He doesn’t do it on purpose, it just sort of happens. Like he subconsciously wants to be seen and found out and acknowledged.

Which happens. Seriously.

Normally, the Wellies stick together during lunchtime, either on the bleachers at the sports field outside, or at one of the tables in the cafeteria if the weather’s bad. It rarely is, but they still have their designated table – and nobody really dares to sit at it even if they’re not around.

It’s chucking it down outside one afternoon, grey skies and everything, and the cafeteria is brimming with people who want to grab their lunch but don’t want to go outside to eat soggy peanut butter sandwiches. Luckily, the Wellies’ table is empty. Bitty and Chowder make their way over. It’s just the two of them today because Shitty’s off necking that dark-haired catch he’s mentioned several times before from the only girl gang in their school, Nursey and Whiskey got themselves into some trouble so they’ve been called down to the principal’s office, and Tango has been ditching for a couple of days in a row now. To the point where they’re all wondering if he’s come down with the flu or something. Chowder even joked about getting him some soup.

It’s weird to be without the rest of the group, but doable. C is good company. He always kind of acts like he’s new around school even though he’s just a year below Bitty. It’s made him feel kind of protective over him.

They make their way across the cafeteria to their table, chatting all the while about the rumor that Nursey’s at the principal’s office because he made their chem teacher Mr. Breech cry during second period. Bitty’s not watching where he’s going, yet when he collides into someone he’s already whipping his head around before his pretzel has even had a chance of hitting the ground to verbally crush whoever had just made him drop his food – but he stops, and the scathing words get stuck in his throat.

He’s looking directly into the big, blue eyes of Canadian #1, who looks equal parts shocked, apologetic, and…pleased?

“Crisse, sorry about that,” he says. Bitty has no idea what it means but it doesn’t matter. Jack could have just called him the bad end of a mule and he wouldn’t bat an eye.

“Yeah, whatever,” Bitty blurts out, because he realizes that C is standing right behind him, probably waiting for him to explode so he can back him up, but it doesn’t happen. Other people are likely watching, too. He can’t exactly perpetuate an image of danger when someone walks into him and all he does is smile and say it’s fine, can he?

“You gonna—” but Bitty can’t even finish his sentence, because Jack’s already scooped down to pick up whatever fell off Bitty’s tray and set it back on with a grimace.

They both look at the pretzel for a moment. There’s visible hairs on it now.

“I can buy you a new one,” Jack offers awkwardly as he grimaces at the thing.

“Uh,” is all Bitty manages to say at that moment. What is he supposed to do now, let Jack buy him a new meal? He can’t do that. But he doesn’t exactly have the money to afford a second himself, not at the moment. Bitty would rather skip lunch for a day than lose face and potentially risk much more than he can even begin to imagine on the spot, so he decides against it. But again, it’s like Jack beats him to it.

“Actually, here.”

Jack twists and reaches over the table where his friends have sat down to pick up his own tray and offer it to Bitty. He doesn’t look scared doing it, though, which is bizarre to Bitty. He’s gotten so used to people damn near fearing him whenever he’s with even just one of the other Wellies (and sometimes even without any, just by himself), that it’s strangely refreshing when someone who just made Bitty drop his food offers him his own tray with an apologetic smile and all the calm of someone who has little to no idea what kind of reputation Bitty has.

Bitty picks up the dirty pretzel from his tray and drops it onto a nearby table, then takes Jack’s off his tray and adds it to his own. The rest of the food is still pretty okay but Bitty reaches over again and, as if to make a point, snatches Jack’s pudding cup. He raises a challenging brow when Jack purses his lips just a touch as if he’s about to say something. The look silences him sufficiently.

“Thought y’all jocks weren’t supposed to be such spazzes,” Bitty says faux casually, trying to give Jack a pointed look, “Watch where you’re going next time, nosebleed. Now beat it.”

Jack sort of smirks and turns to sit down at the table behind him. Bitty, followed by C – who has been spectacularly quiet throughout the exchange – continues on to his own table, too. The moment they’re out of earshot C is already gushing about how he handled that. He’s always so enthusiastic. It doesn’t even really matter what any of their group does, C will find something to gush about.

 

Bitty sees nothing wrong with his threat and his attitude, until Jack starts smiling and sometimes waving at him whenever he next sees him around school.

 

 

They go to the mall at some point, because Tango won some kind of bet and got into some dough, and he wants to buy a leather jacket. An actual, brand spanking new, leather jacket. They don’t really go to the mall often because this gang from another school on the other side of town dominates the area, and they’ve been recruiting big new members lately. Giants. Real germs, if you were to ask Bitty and his gang. And while they love getting into a little bit of a rumble, for now they just want the damn jacket, and that’s all.

They go on the weekend, all piling into Shitty’s crappy car to drive them over. Maybe they’ll get some food after, though there are also vague plans to go back to Bitty’s after to raid the fridge and pantry for whatever it is they have left after Christmas and everything.

The mall is pretty busy and they keep an eye out for the Aces, but so far they’re nowhere to be seen.

They do run into Jack, and this new friend of his, Justin. Or rather, Bitty does, while he’s busy reencountering a crazy story and walking backwards to do exactly that, his friends hot on his heels. Or, toes, in this case. Bitty doesn’t see him coming and the rest of his gang doesn’t either, too fixated on what he’s telling them with big grins on their faces and a kind of tension in their steps that says they can jump out of their skin for any reason and at any time.

Bitty’s caught off guard for a moment as the collision takes place, and the way he whips around, ready to give hell to whoever just bumped into him, has the rest of the group on their toes in an instant, circling around the other immediately. But Bitty pauses when he sees Jack, looking just about as startled as himself, a paper shopping bag in one hand and the other up defensively.

“Eric,” Jack says, surprised, and suddenly the rest are hooting.

“Did he just call you—”

“Oooh, Eric, take me Eric!”

“He’s a real gone cat isn’t he?”

“Eric!”

“Watch out I’m gonna upchuck!” Followed by the sound of fake retching.

“Alright cut the gas!” Bitty is _this_ close to giving at least one of his friends a loving knuckle sandwich, but he cools it and just rolls his eyes instead. Jack’s already looking dazed enough as it is. And embarrassed enough. The group quiets, though even Bitty can feel they’re still grinning behind him. “Hey Jack, what’s buzzin’?”

“Not much. We gonna keep running into each other?” Jack asks with the beginnings of a small smile on his lips. Or maybe Bitty’s just imagining it. He presses his lips together into a smile of his own though. It’s not like he can really stop it.

“Guess we are.” He looks at the bag the other boy is holding and jerks his chin at it. “What’s that?”

“Got some new shoes, for the game,” Jack holds up the bag for emphasis, and belatedly, clearly hesitantly, adds, “You should come, y’know?”

Again there is hooting, though it’s brief, because evidently the others are curious as to Bitty’s answer.

And Bitty hesitates. He’s frankly too giddy about the mere fact that Jack just asked him to come watch his first game in a couple of weeks to be able to even formulate a normal response to that. He smirks and shrugs a shoulder, faking nonchalance. “Sure. Sounds swell.”

Jack gives Bitty a smile and he already knows he’s practically on the hook.

“Right. See you later, then.”

“See ya.”

They carry on.

“You’re not actually going to a _football game_ , are you?” Whiskey asks as they walk off, an amused tone in his voice.

Bitty shrugs. “Nah,” he says, like the liar he is starting to become, “Doesn’t razz my berries.”

 

 

It ends up being the first time they ‘hang out’. Jack had asked Bitty to come watch a game of his because apparently they’d reached that stage of friendship somewhere along the way, and they end up sort of accidentally sticking together afterward. Not that Bitty’s complaining.

Bitty’s never really been into sport much but sitting on the bleachers among the hundreds of other Samwell students all donned in the school’s red and gold colors. It’s exhilarating in a strange way to watch the players out on the field, running and tackling each other all while trying to get the football across the field. And Jack is fast. He’s crazy fast. Bitty’s seen him practice before, but he’d never seen him quite as in his element as he is right now with the field’s spotlights bright and the crowd loud. He’s never seen him dodge other players quite so efficiently. And sports have never been this nerve wracking either. He’s on the edge of his seat from the start of the game all the way to the end where Jack scores the winning point, and the moment he does he’s out of his chair, cheering and clapping with the rest of the crowd. Granted, he sits back down self-consciously half a second later, glancing around to make sure nobody’s watching, but he’s pretty damn proud of his newfound friend.  

It’s only the first real game of the season, but Samwell already wins, and the crowd is buzzing. Jack is surprised when he finds Bitty out back in the parking lot after he emerges from the locker rooms and pushes his way through the crowds of people trying to congratulate him to get to the food stalls further down. His hair is a little damp and Bitty really likes the way it swoops across his forehead and leaves little droplets of water on his skin that glisten in the lights pouring over the bleachers. Jack’s got sharp cheekbones.

“Didn’t think you’d stick around,” Jack says as he approaches Bitty with a bit of a jog, and Eric’s perplexed that he can even still do that after the game. He’d have dropped himself between the benches on the bleachers with his feet up and never walk a single step himself again. He’d be beat. But Jack looks like he can easily run another mile or so.

“Didn’t think I would either,” Bitty replies. It earns him a sort of half smile, and that’s…a good look. That’s a very good look. Damnit. He takes a hand out of the pocket of his leather jacket to gesture at Jack’s team pouring out of the locker rooms behind him, all ecstatic, “Congrats.”

Jack grins. “Not bad for a first game, huh?”

“Not bad at all.”

Jack buys the both of them a hot dog from a stand further down, which they eat together leaned against the hood of Jack’s truck a little while away from the thrum of people sticking around for post-game celebrations. Bitty feels bad accepting the food, but knows that at least this gives him a reason to pay Jack back in some way, at some point.

 

‘At some point’ is another couple of weeks down the line when word goes around that Samwell’s favorite diner – a place called Annie’s, though there is no record of a single Annie ever working there – had a new milkshake. An Oreo one.

Now, Bitty’s not big on Oreos, but he is big on milkshakes, and he’s even more of a fan of having a milkshake with an undeniably handsome sportsman – which is exactly what Jack one day suggests, out of the blue. Not in those words exactly, but it doesn’t need saying.

Jack doesn’t usually eat a lot that doesn’t fit into this diet plan he sticks to because of his football career, so when he suggests they go and try out that new milkshake from Annie’s, who is Bitty to say no?

So they plan to go together after school once, and Bitty gathers every penny he can find around his room to make sure that this time, he can pay for their meal. It might not be such a big deal to Jack, because Bitty’s seen Jack’s car and he’s seen his shoes and he’s seen the other clothes he wears, but money kind of is a big deal for Bitty. And Bitty wouldn’t just do this for anyone, either.

He’s already received enough teasing from his friends about this budding friendship with ‘Zimmermann’ as it is, so he decides not to tell them about the fact that he’s going out for lunch with him. He’d never live that down.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust his friends with this kind of information, but they’re all known to chirp each other to the ends of the earth and beyond, and Bitty is…honestly too nervous to handle that right now because he’s going to be having a milkshake with Jack Laurent Zimmermann, who has quickly grown into one of the most popular guys at school, and he needs all the privacy and all the chill he can get.

There is no doubt in his mind that someone will recognize them at some point, but he kind of hopes there’s a booth tucked away in the back somewhere, where they can just enjoy their food in silence. That’s all he wants. He just wants to talk to Jack and have a milkshake without feeling like he has to own up to anything or like he has to keep up some kind of front. It’s not that Jack’s making him soft like he’s sure his friends would accuse him of – it’s that Bitty’s always been like that, but Jack’s the only person he really feels like he can show that around.

They arrive at Annie’s and it’s already buzzing with people. It’s not unusual, especially considering school just went out, so it’s filling up slowly but surely. Bitty doesn’t know if Jack realizes it but he puts a light hand on the slow of Bitty’s back as he opens the door for him and they walk in together. The hand is dropped the moment the door closes behind them – but Bitty can still feel it by the end of the day when he goes to bed.

The booth in the back that Bitty had been hoping on getting is occupied by a couple that should probably just skip their lunch and go straight to the nearest hotel, but two booths down is available. It’s not very private, but it’s not in full view either, and Bitty actually feels pretty comfortable as they slide in on opposite sides and grab the menu. The Oreo milkshake is advertised on the entire front page and it looks really good. Jack seems excited for it, and almost nervous, and Bitty realizes that he feels the same way. It’s strange because it’s just a milkshake, but maybe Jack has some kind of relationship with Oreos that’s rooted deep and that he doesn’t know about. Who knows.

When the waitress comes over to take their order, Bitty automatically orders two, but Jack stops him to say they only need one – they’ll share. Bitty is too dumbstruck by the offer and the expression on Jack’s face to realize that it might have to do with money.

“With two straws. If… that’s alright with you,” Jack offers hesitantly.

“Uh—yeah. Yeah! Sure. One is fine.”

“It’s just that I shouldn’t have too much dairy, y’know? I feel like—”

“It’s fine. It’s cool. We’ll share. No biggie.”

Except it kind of is, a biggie. But Bitty doesn’t say that because it already looks like Jack is blushing and he doesn’t want to make things worse. They order a side of fries and some chicken wings to share between the two of them as well, because Bitty has the money on him now anyway. He doesn’t realize that Jack was planning on paying for it all until their lunchtime date comes to an end.

They chat a little, and the more they chat the more Bitty forgets about the rest of the diner, and the more he forgets about the rest of the diner the more he can relax and focus on Jack. Their food and the milkshake comes along and it looks incredible, with whipped cream higher than anyone’s quiff and two red and white striped straws. Bitty insists Jack have the first taste, and they laugh when he comes away with a smudge of whipped cream on the tip of his nose. Bitty goes in next, and it tastes good. He’s not a huge fan of Oreos himself, but the milkshake’s the kind of sweet that he likes. He’d order it again, if he was to ever find himself in the same situation with the same person sitting across from him. He’d buy Jack an Oreo milkshake anytime.

At some point, they end up leaning in at the same time, and they lock eyes over the mountain of whip, and Jack’s smiling around his straw, and Bitty’s smiling around his straw, and they’re both arguably redder than the red on their individual straws.

Bitty hasn’t put much thought into what they’re doing or what this is, he just knows that he thinks about Jack a lot more than he would care to admit, and these little outings they’d been going on are the highlights of Bitty’s weeks. He looks forward to every single one of Jack’s smiles, feels warm whenever one is directed at him, but who is to say that Jack experiences that in the same way? They’ve been having fun, they’ve been becoming friends. They’ve become close very fast, as his friends won’t stop reminding him of, but that doesn’t make this a date. Does it? Does Bitty want it to? Does Bitty want to be like the couple of kids two booths over?

Bitty nearly chokes on a mouthful of milkshake when his brain presents him with the image of Jack lying back across the couch on one side of the booth’s table and Bitty crawling over him to settle into his lap.

“You okay?” Jack asks, all concerned, because of course he’s got to look like that, of course he has to have his brows knitted like that and his eyes so large with genuine worry.

Bitty makes to grab for a napkin with one hand covering his mouth, but Jack’s already offering one to him. He cleans himself up and nods that yes, he’s fine, everything’s fine, he totally did not just think about what he thought about. He can still look Jack in the eye just fine right now.

“Darn… Could you—could you go change the song on the juke real quick? I hate this one,” he lies, which gets him a strange look, but Jack agrees and disappears for a blessed moment so that Bitty can quietly collect himself.

What the hell was that? He knows that he likes Jack, and he’s thought about spending time with him plenty, but this is something else entirely. And Bitty… Well, Bitty would be lying if he said he didn’t like it. He’s going to be in some serious shit if anyone finds out that what Jack probably thinks is casually hanging out, he wants to be something else entirely himself.

That seems to be the least of his problems right now though, because when he leans over to drop his napkin into the now empty fries basket, his eye is automatically drawn to someone very enthusiastically making his way over. And it’s not Jack. Oh lord.

“Bitty! Dude! We had no idea you were here!”

“Hey C… Who’s—”

“Hey guys! Come over here! It’s Bitty!”

Bitty shifts anxiously in his seat. Oh boy. Oh no. This better not be the whole gang.

And it’s not, but it’s not much consolation when Shitty comes over with a dark-haired girl, followed by Whiskey, Nursey and Farms, the cheerleader C’s been hanging out a lot with lately. They’re probably here to try out the new milkshake too, or grab some food before they’re leaving for the movie they’re seeing. Bitty completely forgot. He cancelled, saying he had other plans, and he can see the surprise on the others’ faces when they step into his line of vision.

“Hey y’all,” Bitty says, chirpy, but he wishes that the floor would open up to swallow him whole right now. He’s already trying to figure out a way to get Jack to stay by the jukebox for a little while longer so that he can buy himself some time. With the single, solitary milkshake sitting in front of him, surely nobody will suspect he’s with someone. Sometimes the waitress just gives you two straws. They do that. Nothing new. But Bitty is fresh out of luck because the song that’s playing stops, and a few moments later, Nina Simone starts singing about her baby, and Bitty knows he doesn’t have much time left.

“I thought you were busy today?” Chris asks as he puts his arm around Caitlin. Shitty’s got his around the dark-haired girl. Bitty should really get better with names. Has Shitty even ever mentioned it? He decides it’s the perfect diversion right now.

“Who’s this?” He asks because he just knows that Shitty will take _any_ chance to talk about his new girl. He’s proven that in the past. Who knew it would come in handy someday.

“Larissa. But my friends call me Lardo,” the girl says herself, and she gives Bitty a crooked smile, and she seems alright. She’s pretty and Shitty seems smitten with her so she has to be alright.

“We’re gonna catch a flick later. You got your plans cancelled, my man? You can come, you know. There’s plenty of space in the back,” Shitty pitches in.

But Bitty is already shaking his head, eyes drifting from the heads hovering by his table to between them, anxiously awaiting Jack’s return. What is he going to do? Surely it’ll be fine. They can just be hanging out. It’s what they do with the Wellies all the time.

“Nah, I’m gonna be busy tonight. But thanks guys.”

“Sorry. Excuse me…”

Jack pushes through the little crowd gathered by one end of their table and flops back down in his seat, and if anyone was originally going to say anything, they sure are silent now. For a few moments. Until Shitty breaks that silence with an almost too casual, “Hey brah.”

Bitty doesn’t know if he likes that tone of voice. He doesn’t know if he should be shitting himself or put on a brave face and avoid the fact that there are now six people staring at the milkshake that’s standing in between Jack and Bitty with its two straws. He doesn’t know exactly what to expect, and that is probably the worst of all. If Jack were some girl from school, regardless of her status in whatever hierarchy has been established long ago, he could expect hoots and chirps and laughter and his friends interrogating both him and the girl. But this is Jack. And Jack is not only a guy, but he’s a guy on the sports’ team. This can go in all kinds of wrong directions.

“Are you guys waiting on your birds or something?” Nursey asks, and Bitty realizes that he’s subconsciously been hoping that no one would ask them that, because answering that would solidify that this isn’t just them hanging out. He’s too busy trying to suppress the feeling of panic bubbling up in his chest to answer, so Jack beats him to it.

“No, it’s just us, actually.”

“Just you,” Nursey echoes. Jack nods. “Sharing a milkshake.” Jack nods again, slower this time. Nursey’s voice dropped a little that second time around, and it makes Bitty’s skin crawl.

He silently wishes that he had an excuse, that he could get them out of there. He doesn’t want to draw attention to them by storming off in the middle of this, but it’s starting to look very tempting.

Shitty is being awfully quiet. Bitty doesn’t want to look at him.

“Like a date!” Chris adds after a couple of moments of silence, as if the penny drops and suddenly he realizes what this is, and Bitty finds himself looking wide-eyed at Jack. He looks unsure. Or maybe that’s just Bitty. He looks unsure, and uncomfortable, even though he seemed so casual a minute ago. He looks like – like Bitty – he doesn’t want to be here anymore.

Bitty is torn between denying that this is a date for fear of discouraging Jack if he _does_ think it is, but he also doesn’t want to agree that it is when that’s not what Jack is thinking. They haven’t talked about this at all. It didn’t feel like something they needed to address, or at least Bitty’s never felt like that.

The Nina Simone song in the background ends and Jack looks away, and Bitty’s already standing before he can help it, as if on cue.

“We should get going,” he says in a much quieter and less forceful and confident way than he planned to. He quickly holds out his hand for Jack, but then drops it just as quickly, grabbing his jacket instead and shrugging into it. He avoids eye-contact with the others like the plague.

Jack follows, and knowing him he probably gives the other a couple of those apologetic little smiles, the ones where one corner of his mouth ticks up just a second. It’s normally a really cute sight.

Bitty takes his money out of his pocket and counts his nuggets, leaving behind what he owes the waitress including a tip. He hesitates for a moment as if he wants to say something to the others, who are still standing in a small crowd by the table, but part in the middle when Bitty decides against saying something and instead just starts walking. He trusts that Jack follows, and he does. Bitty’s heart is pounding.

But even before they can get to the door, Bitty can already hear it. The confused murmuring. The mumbling. The gossip.

“Isn’t that that football player?”

“I thought Bits said he hated the sports team…”

“They seemed…friendly.”

“Brah they were _sharing_ a _milkshake_.”

“—two straws.”

“What the hell just happened?”

“Is Bitty…?”

“He’s…”

“Holy shit, man.”

There’s tears in Bitty’s eyes before the door to the diner even has a chance to fall shut behind them.

 

 

It’s spring break, and Bitty barely goes outside for anything other than going to work and occasionally washing, waxing, or tinkering on his car.

He doesn’t see his friends, doesn’t talk to them. He knows they’re out there celebrating their own spring break, going to Annie’s and spending time at the garage and taking trips down to Lover’s Lake. But he’s not coming along. He has been avoiding them since the incident at Annie’s, and though it had been a little hard to do so on school grounds, now that it is their break he can just tuck himself away. He lives most far out, out of all of his friends, anyway, so if he stays in his own neighborhood, the chance to see someone he knows from school is quite small.

He doesn’t see Jack either, doesn’t talk to him. He knows he’s out there celebrating his own spring break, training for the oncoming game and going to dinner with his parents, helping out his dad.

It doesn’t feel good. But then nothing feels good. He wants to see Jack even more than he wants to see his friends but he’s not sure he’s welcome anywhere near him anymore. It must have been embarrassing, what happened. Jack seemed pretty cool about it all when they’d left the diner and spilled into the parking lot, he even put a hand on Bitty’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze, then he’d drawn him into some kind of vague semblance of a half, one-armed hug, but never commented on the tears. ‘I’ll see you later’, he’d said, and Bitty had agreed, but nearly two weeks later Bitty’s not so sure if ‘later’ is ever really going to happen.

At some point spring break is going to be over though, and Bitty knows that he can’t keep avoiding everyone forever.

Halfway through the break, Bitty comes into the kitchen one morning to his mother doing some light baking. The kitchen smells like pie crust and butter and he wonders if one of the neighbors had a baby again. He remembers Mrs. Bianchi from down the street was looking pretty big the last time he saw her a couple weeks ago.

He sits down at the kitchen table instead of going to immediately fetch his breakfast so he can be out the door as quick as possible like he usually does, and immediately mama Bittle turns around and looks at her boy to study him. Like she knows something’s off. That something has been off for a while.

“What’s with the long face, Dicky?” She asks.

Bitty raises his brows. “Nothing’s with the long face. I don’t have a long face.”

It earns him a half-heartedly stern look, and Bitty sighs, crossing his arms and sitting back in his chair.

“It’s nothing, mama. I should get going. Mr. Paisley’s probably already waiting.” He goes to stand and fetch a quick breakfast, having decided that he doesn’t really want to be here if he’s going to get some kind of talking to.

“You’ve been working so much, honey. When’s the last time you saw your friends?”

“I don’t know, mama, they don’t really…wanna see me right now,” Bitty mumbles as he crosses the kitchen and opens a cupboard.

“What do you mean they don’t wanna see you? Did something happen?”

Bitty shrugs. He doesn’t really want to tell his mother his friends don’t want to talk to him because they caught him sharing a milkshake with a boy, which is basically the equivalent to finding them at Lover’s Lake. It would have had the same outcome. Because Jack is a boy. And Bitty doesn’t want his mother to know that.

Suzanne looks contemplative for a minute, watching her son make himself a quick sandwich. “Have you tried talking to them yet?” She asks.

“No mama,” Bitty says, “I haven’t tried talking to them yet. They don’t wanna talk to me.”

“How do you know? Did they say they don’t wanna talk to you?”

That makes Bitty pause. Nobody has said that they don’t want to talk to him. They’re not avoiding Bitty, at least maybe they aren’t, maybe they are, he doesn’t know, and he doesn’t know because he hasn’t seen them because _he’s_ the one who’s been avoiding _them_. He’s the one who hasn’t talked to any of his friends because he’s scared of what the outcome might be.

He sighs as he finishes making his PB&J sandwich, and puts the bread back in the cupboard. “No…” He admits reluctantly.

“Then I think it’s high time you go and see your friends again.”

It’s easier said than done though. Doing nothing seems so much simpler.

That same day, Bitty decides that things can go either of two ways if he does nothing at all. The first is that he goes back to school once it starts again, and no one will even look at him. He’ll likely be kicked out of the Wellies, and all his friends (including Jack) will give him the cold shoulder. Maybe he’ll even be the talk of the town. Maybe he’ll be a walking, talking fream in everyone’s eyes now. Your typical outcast. Maybe Jack will be given a hard time for it, too. He might even lose the scholarship he’s trying to get, and the eventual career. Bitty shudders just thinking about it.

The other way it can go is that his friends somehow decide it wasn’t a big deal after all. He goes back to school and no one ever mentions it. It’s brushed completely under the rug and he doesn’t have to worry about a single thing. Jack and he will joke about it in a few weeks but other than that it’s never brought up again. Bitty fiercely hopes that something like that is possible, but it just doesn’t seem so. He knows what school is like. He knows what his friends are like. Everyone likes a good rumor, everyone likes gossip. Maybe half the school already knows by now.

So out of those two options, the first is definitely most likely. But there’s a third option.

He has to talk to Shitty.

If there’s anyone who could ease this tension and welcome Bitty back into the group without making a big deal out of it, and hopefully while avoiding drama, it’s Shitty.

It takes Bitty another two days to really gather enough courage to grab the bull by its horns, but when he finally does he makes sure it’s on a night he knows Shitty is home. The Knights have one night a week where they cook Shitty’s favorite as a sort of way to bring an otherwise busy family together. Bitty hates imposing on a night like this, but he drives down to Shitty’s at a time where he knows dinner is probably over and done with, and before he knows it he’s standing on the Knights porch, facing Mrs. Knight.

He doesn’t even have to say anything before he’s welcomed in, told she hasn’t seen him in a while, asked if he’s been doing okay, offered a drink (which he kindly declines) and then sent straight up to Shitty’s room.

There’s music blaring down the landing and Bitty is met with an almost physical wall of sound the second he opens the door into Shitty’s bedroom. He’s nervous as all hell but the determination he left home with is still there, even if in a slighter proportion.

Shitty’s room smells like cigarette smoke some kind of perfume which Bitty assumes must be that girl’s. What’s her name again? Lardo. There’s posters on the walls and clothes on the floor and Shitty is sitting in the open window with an ashtray on the windowsill, smoking a cigarette and nodding his head along to the song that’s playing on the radio from where it’s lying on his bed. He doesn’t notice Bitty coming in, sitting with his back to him and all, which gives Bitty a moment to gather his thoughts and the last ounce of courage that he needs to face Shitty after what had happened.

Bitty tries to clear his throat, but the music easily drowns out the sound, so he figures he might as well just go for the old-fashioned way. He lets go of the door and watches as the draught coming in from the open window pulls it shut hard. The slam of the door has Shitty look up, looking just a touch annoyed for a brief second before he recognizes that it isn’t his sister, but Bitty, and then his eyes go wide.

“Bitty. Dude.” He says. Surprise morphs into something akin to suspicion, eyebrows furrowed as Shitty climbs out of the windowsill and drops his lit cigarette into the ashtray. He reaches over to the bed to turn the music down to a slightly less deafening volume so that they can understand each other. “What’s buzzin’?”

“I wanna talk,” Bitty blurts out before he can overthink things again and backtrack on what he really wants to say, “About—about what happened. At the diner.” Shitty is watching him expectantly, give a small nod, and waits. Bitty feels like he might hurl with the tension bubbling up in his chest. His voice is tinny and thin when he speaks again. “And about Jack.”

This time, Shitty turns the music off completely when he reaches for the radio. He sits down on the bed. His face is pretty blank, which is – at the moment – completely terrifying. Shitty can be so hard to read sometimes, and right now Bitty could have really used whatever hints he normally would have been able to extract. This is why Shitty is so damn good at staring down rival gangs and negotiating with them. And playing poker, for that matter.

There is room for Bitty to sit on the bed but he doesn’t. He’s not sure he should, and in any case he doesn’t know how much longer he’ll be welcome.

Bitty takes a deep breath and straightens his spine in the hopes that it will help some more courage flow.

“It’s not what it looked like,” he says, and for a moment Bitty thinks he sees a small flicker of something akin to disbelief in Shitty’s eyes. Bitty keeps going. “I know what it looked like, but it wasn’t like that. Jack and I—Jack wanted to try that new milkshake, at Annie’s. You know the Oreo one? Yeah, well he wanted to try that one, he told me he did, and since he paid for our hot dogs last time when I—” When I went to watch the game. Shit. Okay. He can’t tell him that. “He paid for our hot dogs last time, so I figured it was only fair if I’d pay for something this time, y’know?”

Bitty’s not paying close attention to Shitty’s face, he’s more focused on the story he’s telling, because if he did pay attention he would have found the frown there, the little squint of confusion, and the growing disbelief. But he just keeps going.

“I didn’t want the milkshake because you know I don’t care much for milkshakes but this waitress, man, this waitress—she just brought one over with two straws, even if it was just Jack’s, y’know? Like even she thought we were on a date. Which we were not. We were not on a date. It was just…”

Bitty trails off. Shitty has his eyebrows raised now, waiting to hear what it was, instead. But Bitty doesn’t have a good excuse. There is an uneasy feeling in Bitty’s chest.

“So… You’re saying you don’t? Like him?” Shitty asks skeptically, or maybe it’s not skeptical and that’s just Bitty’s mind playing tricks on him, because for all he knows Shitty might be buying the story easily, but it still seems like he doesn’t and Bitty is at a loss.

Bitty just gives a small, near-petrified nod of his head.

Shitty shakes his head minutely with a frown. “What—What is that? What’s that supposed to mean, yes, no…?”

“I—”

“Bits. Dude.”

Bitty should have known that if there was anyone who wouldn’t buy one of his fake stories and see right through him, it was Shitty. And now he was looking at him expectantly, frown gone but replaced with a lopsided little smirk, like he already knows.

“I do,” Bitty mutters.

“You do what?” Shitty asks carefully.

“I do…like him. I do like him. Very much, Shits. So much…”

There’s a moment of silence wherein Bitty is already rapidly working on building up some defenses and making predictions on how the rest of the night is going to go. He’ll be asked to leave, and then he will go home, probably cry on the way back, try to avoid his parents on his way up to his bedroom, and hide away for the rest of the break. He might not even go back to school after. It’s not like he really needs it. He can always start working for his dad instead of finishing school.

“I mean…” Shitty says, and Bitty’s chest is tight, “It was about time you figured that one out.”

Bitty blinks. “What?”

“You’ve been hanging out more with him than you have with us lately. Which is cool. It’s boss. I saw you at that game, too.”

Bitty opens his mouth to protest but Shitty holds a placating hand up with a chuckle, “Don’t sweat it, I was there too, man. Lardo wanted to go to see a friend of hers on the cheer team but she didn’t want to go alone, so I went with her. You looked like you had a gas.”

Bitty’s heart is still pounding, but for different reasons now. Shitty saw him at the game? Shitty knows he likes Jack and it seems like he already knew, maybe even before Bitty had the chance to think about what everything meant. He’s speechless.

Shitty continues where Bitty can’t seem to find the words.

“I’ve seen you go pretty kookie over a couple of guys before, but this is the real thing, huh? You’re real gone for this guy.”

Bitty swallows. He nods. Yeah, he’s real gone for this one. Before, he didn’t really think about it like that, he just thought he very much enjoyed spending time with Jack – and he did, he does, but it’s something else as well. He thinks about Jack even when Jack’s not around. He thinks about him at home, in bed late at night, in the morning when he wakes up and has breakfast, when he’s on his way to school, when he wanders the halls in search for his next class, when he’s on the bleachers with his friends or in the cafeteria on rainy days. He’s always looking around, always keeping his eyes out in case he might see him somewhere, might run into him. He’s always waiting to catch that radiant smile.

He’s real gone for Jack. And Shitty’s seen it.

“I’m in Fat City, Shits,” Bitty sighs with the beginnings of a smile on his lips. He’s the happiest he’s been in a long time. With Jack.

But he hasn’t seen Jack since the diner incident. Hasn’t even talked to him. Bitty’s smile disappears and a frown takes its place.

“What’s that look for?” Shitty asks.

“I haven’t seen him since we ran into you guys at Annie’s.”

“Oh,” Shitty frowns, “Ain’t that a bite.”

“Yeah.”

Contemplative silence.

“Why don’t you stop being such a candy ass and ask that boy out,” Shitty says suddenly, brows raised in challenge, “Take him to the Passion Pit and play yourself some backseat bingo. Huh? Why not?”

“Why not?” Bitty sputters, “Why not? Because—Oh my goodness, Shitty, because he’s a _guy_ , and because he might not even be into me!”

“Sure he is. You guys are, like, practically already circled or something.”

Before Bitty can even begin to protest again, Shitty is on his feet and gives his arm a playful little punch. “You’re gonna ask him out,” he says, “Or I’m gonna do it for you. And I’m pretty sure I know which one you’d prefer.”

Bitty smiles, and Shitty smiles back at him, and they stand there for a moment in the quiet of Shitty’s room.

“So we’re good?” Bitty asks tentatively after a moment.

Shitty grins. “We’re swell, my dude.”

 

 

Shitty insists that Bitty ask Jack out before the end of spring break. To ensure that they have time to figure some things out before school starts again.

It’s pretty clever, and Bitty appreciates how Shitty thinks along with him, tries to help him.

It’s a relief that Shitty took the news so well. A huge relief. But when Bitty went home that night, he realized that it was all up to him now.

Bitty decides to ride out this sudden surge of courage the very next day, and allows to let that courage take him all the way to Jack’s front door. Though he’s never been to Jack’s place before, Jack mentioned where he lives in conversation once, and Bitty remembered.

As he drives up and parks along the sidewalk, Bitty notices that Jack’s car isn’t parked in the drive, and he silently curses himself. He didn’t think about that. Didn’t even consider that Jack might not be home. He’s probably out somewhere, at practice, or working. It’s a Thursday, so it’s possible.

Right when he decides that he should just go home and try and call Jack later that night, the front door opens, and a blonde woman that Bitty is pretty sure he’s seen before comes walking out of the house. Bitty is a little too busy trying to figure out just where he’d seen her before to realize that she is walking in his direction and is trying to make eye contact. She has a friendly smile on her face. Bitty quickly rolls down the window when she gives him a small wave.

“Can I help you? I just saw you sitting out here from the window. You look a little lost.”

The woman’s eyes are unmistakably Jack’s. There’s no doubt about that. And maybe the crinkles around her eyes, too, when she smiles.

“I’m looking for Jack?” Bitty asks.

“Oh, he’s out at the moment, I’m afraid. Are you one of his friends?”

Bitty nods a little nervously. “Yeah, we ah—we go to school together. My name’s Bitty. I’ll just—” he gestures back toward the road, the way he came, “Could you tell him I came by?”

“Bitty. Of course. He’ll be glad to hear from you.”

She waves him off, and Bitty can’t help but wonder what she means by that.

 

Jack calls that night, and he sounds… Well, it might just be the connection, but he sounds relieved. He tells Bitty that his mother told him he’d stopped by that afternoon, and that it was a pity he wasn’t home, that he would have liked to see him, and Bitty has to sit down on one of the stools in the kitchen by the phone.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” Jack says, “But I wasn’t sure you’d want to talk to me.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d want to talk to me, after what happened,” Bitty admits sheepishly. There’s a quiet chuckle on the other end of the line, and then it’s quiet for a moment.

They start talking at the same time.

“Can I—”

“Do you want—”

They chuckle.

“Heh… You first.”

“I was just wondering…” Bitty casts a quick look around the room to make sure that no one’s entered since the call started, but his father is still in the living room laughing along to a show on the radio, and his mother is still upstairs. He’s in the clear. But even thinking about asking Jack out still gives Bitty heart palpitations. He just needs to get it over with. Just ask him out. Just… Do it. “Do you want to go see a flick at the Passion Pit this Saturday?”

Jack is silent for a moment and Bitty bites his lip. Little does he know that Jack is on the other end of the line, smiling wide into the receiver, trying to wave away his eavesdropping parents.

“Yeah,” he eventually says, “Yeah that sounds really good, Bits.”

“Okay. Great.”

“Great.”

“Great.”

Bitty feels like he should kick himself in the shins.

“Wait, what did you want to say?”

“What did I want to say? Oh, I just…wanted to ask if I could see you again. But this works. This is great, actually.”

“I think they’re showing Godzilla.”

“I’ve never seen that.”

“Me neither.” Bitty absently plays with the string on the phone, tapping his heel against the leg of the stool. “So I’ll pick you up, then? Saturday, at 7?”

“Sounds good,” Jack says.

Another moment of silence.

“I should probably hang,” Bitty murmurs. Coach, in the other room, has turned off the radio. He should cut this short now, make sure his father doesn’t catch too much of the conversation. He can’t make the call too long, anyway, or the phone bill will be through the roof, and he doesn’t want to have to pay it again like he had to when C had called him up to talk about his first date with Caitlin.

“Yeah, me too. I think we’re going to have dinner soon.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll see you Saturday then.”

“See you Saturday.”

It takes Bitty another second to be able to put the phone back on the horn, but when he does he’s up off the stool immediately, and bouncing up the stairs to his bedroom. He walks into his mother on the landing, and he gives her a firm hug in passing, surprising the both of them.

“Well Dicky’s in a good mood, isn’t he?” She asks her husband when she comes downstairs to sit down beside him on the couch.

“Mhm,” he answers, “I think he might have got himself a date.”

 

 

“Are you ready?”

“Mhmm.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have your hopes up too high, do you? Tell me you don’t.”

“I don’t.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Good. Keep it that way. Oh—here he comes.”

Bob and Alicia watch from the kitchen window as a car pulls up along the sidewalk in front of their house, bright red even in the dim light of dusk.

Alicia watches tersely as her husband squints at the boy that steps out of the car. The boy looks nervous, even from where they’re standing, wringing his hands together and lingering tentatively on the sidewalk for a moment before he seems to square his shoulders in that leather jacket of his and starts making his way over to the front door.

“He’s…” Bob starts, and Alicia presses her lips together in anticipation. “Short?”

“His name is Bitty,” Alicia replies, her voice nearly a whisper as if she’s sharing a conspiracy.

“Ah,” Bob nods solemnly, “Of course.”

“Hello again,” Alicia says as she opens the door for Bitty a mere second after he knocks. The boy looks startled for a brief flash of a second before he breaks into a faux confident smile. Everyone can see his nerves from miles away.

“Hello Mrs. Zimmermann. Is Jack—”

“Yes!” Jack’s voice drifts down the stairs from up the landing, and the next moment he’d hurrying down the steps, still shrugging into his letterman.

“He is. He’s very excited.” Alicia smiles.

“Maman!”

“I don’t believe we’ve met, son,” Bob extends his hand from where he’s standing half behind his wife, and Bitty has to take a half step over the threshold to be able to reach out and take it, “Bob.”

“Bitty.”

Jack joins them by the door and if Bitty’s not mistaken, he looks a little red. Embarrassed, maybe?

“Interesting name, Bitty,” Bob says.

“We should go,” Jack interjects. Oh he’s definitely embarrassed. He gives his mother a quick kiss on the cheek and grabs Bitty by the elbow on the way out of the door, leading him down the driveway and back towards his car.

“Bye, cheri. Bye Eric.”

“Bye Mr. and Mrs. Zimmermann.”

Bitty can’t stop grinning at Jack’s expression the whole ride through town.

The movie is sold out by the time they arrive. It’s a Saturday night and it seems that everyone’s trying to make the last of the last weekend of their break. The whole lot is filled with cars and there’s a long line in front of the food stall. Jack looks more concerned than he looks disappointed, but Bitty reassures him with a smile, and turns the car around. He has a better idea.

They drive for a little while, through a few streets, uphill, down a near-deserted road that seems to be going nowhere. They take a turn, and another, and end up at a dead end with a couple of trees and some grass. An abandoned building site from a long time ago. They’re still trying to decide what to do with the piece of land. They initially wanted to cut down the trees, but it was decided that removing those would make the ground significantly more unstable, since the edge is almost like a small cliff. The trees’ roots hold the earth together. So it was decided that they couldn’t really do anything with it. Not unless they found a way to take down the trees.

It does happen to be just above the Passion Pit. Bitty drives them through the grass, pretty much right up until the edge where the trees part just enough to offer a perfect view on the large screen below. The movie hasn’t started yet but is about to – the screen is already lit up.

Here, not only will they see it much better than they might behind a half dozen cars, but they are also alone. They have all the privacy in the world. Nobody will be going down this dead end road, and nobody from the cars below can see them even if they look up.

Jack looks pleasantly surprised. Bitty gets out and steps around the car to sit on the hood, and Jack follows suit.

“I know this isn’t exactly the Pit, and we don’t have snacks or drinks or anything, but…”

Jack smiles and nudges Bitty with his elbow. “This is great, Bits. I like it better up here than I would have down there.”

“Really?” Bitty asks.

“Really.”

They’re both smiling when the movie starts. Up here, nobody shushes them when they talk, so they occasionally discuss plot points, or share conspiracies or predictions, and the more they murmur to each other the closer they move together, to the point where they don’t have to lean over to hear each other anymore. Their thighs are pretty much pressed flush together, shoulders knocking, and not even halfway through the movie Bitty is already a little lost.

He’s missed this. Even just sitting in Jack’s near proximity. Being able to look at him, and talk to him, and have him look and talk back.

 

From what Bitty has actually seen of the movie he decides he quite likes it. Jack, on the other hand, is not very impressed by the plot as much as he is by the effects.

They sit there even though the movie has ended and the cars below are slowly filing out of the Pit and back onto the street. It gets more and more quiet the more cars disappear out of sight, until it’s just them and the quiet song of the crickets in the high grass and the wind blowing a breeze through the trees surrounding them.

Bitty thinks about what Shitty said, about necking in the backseat of his car, but it doesn’t feel right. Especially now that the movie is over. And maybe it’s not something that he can see Jack doing with someone. He’s far too…chivalrous for that. Yeah, that’s the word Bitty should use. Chivalrous. He’s the kind of guy that would take a girl on a date, pay for it all, and drop her back off before curfew after with a kiss on the cheek on the doorstep to her house. That’s the kind of guy Jack is. Backseat bingo could come after.

“Do you have a curfew?” Bitty breaks the silence with the question, looking up at Jack, who shakes his head.

“Not during spring break. Do you?”

Bitty shakes his head too. “Never.”

Jack gives a contemplative hum, and then it’s quiet between them again. Bitty knows that he should probably suggest they leave. They’re with his car, after all – he’s the one who will be driving them home, and Jack is probably waiting for him to get behind the wheel again so that they can beat feet.

“Do you wanna go?” He asks, already half slipping off the hood, but Jack’s fingers are curled around his bicep before his feet touch the grass, and he sits back again.

“No, I—it’s actually kind of nice here. And it’s been too long since I’ve last seen you.”

Bitty has to look away because he’s positive that his face is red if the heat he feels in his cheeks it anything to go by, and he’s trying his best to suppress a widening grin. “That’s just a load o’ apple butter,” he mumbles, and knocks his shoulder gently into Jack’s. When he looks up at him, Jack is smiling softer than Bitty’s ever seen him.

“Really, Bits. After last time… I honestly wasn’t sure I’d see you again.”

Maybe it’s Bitty’s imagination, but it looks like there’s a sad gleam in Jack’s eyes at that thought. Bitty’s chest feels warm with the notion that Jack missed him, and that he would have been sad had he never heard from Bitty again.

Bitty folds his hands in his lap and looks down at them. “I didn’t see anyone, for a while. Still only seen Shitty.”

Jack frowns. “Oh. Is it because of…”

“Annie’s.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry, Bits…”

Bitty shakes his head and looks up again, taking a big breath and squaring his shoulders, putting on a smile. “No. I’m not. My only regret is that you didn’t get to finish the milkshake.”

Jack looks at him for a long moment before his face splits into a grin, and Bitty can’t help but mirror his expression.

“We should go back for that some time,” Jack suggests.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. For the milkshake, of course.”

“Right, of course. For the milkshake.”

They’re still smiling widely at each other and Bitty’s cheeks are starting to hurt. It’s also starting to get a little bit chilly, the wind picking up and night really settling over their town. They should head back soon. Even Jack gives a shudder in his letterman, and that’s telltale, because if there’s one thing that Bitty has come to know it’s that Jack is rarely cold. He still feels like a furnace from where Bitty is sitting right next to him.

“I’m glad you called me,” Jack murmurs. A second later, the warmth of a large hand lands halfway up Bitty’s back, over his spine. Bitty holds his breath for a second.

“Technically, you called me,” he breathes, and when Jack laughs and subtly slides his arm around Bitty’s shoulder, Bitty leans willingly into his side.

“Well, I’m glad I called you then. Very courageous of me.”

“Oh, you’re such a big tickle aren’t ya. Gonna make me bust a gut.”

Now Bitty really doesn’t want to leave. But goddammit it’s cold and the wind is mean and now that the lights down in the Pit are being turned off it’s getting almost too dark for comfort. Jack’s chuckle might warm his heart but it doesn’t do much to warm the rest of him, physically. Bitty slides his own arm around Jack’s back and that’s a little warmer and a little more comfortable and oh he’d like to stay there forever, yes please, he could die happy right where he is, but the inevitability of having to go home by the end of the night catches up to them pretty quickly thereafter.

“Drive me home?” Jack asks, and Bitty drives him home.

“Walk me to the door?” Jack asks, and Bitty walks him to his door.

It’s the same way he’s convinced that Jack would walk a date to his door. Bitty mentally shakes himself when he realizes that’s exactly what he’s doing right now. No one needs a girl for that. Just a date. And this was one.

There’s a small light on, on the porch, but the house is otherwise dark. So is the rest of the street. Bitty has no idea what time it is but he’s not tired and he doesn’t think he ever could be, in Jack’s company. Jack takes his keys out of his pocket and twirls the ring around his index finger once, twice, then catches the keys in his palm. They jingle, and then Bitty looks up at Jack, who is watching him.

“So…what’s next?” Jack asks softly.

Nerves rise like bile suddenly up Bitty’s throat and he seizes with it, pushing himself up to his tiptoes to put his hands on Jack’s shoulders and kiss him. It’s all he’s been able to think about on the way back, all he’s been thinking about since Jack put his arm around him back at the Passion Pit and pulled him close. He’s afraid that if he doesn’t do it now, he might never get the opportunity to do it again. Jack has to take a half step back to regain his balance but his hands fall to Bitty’s hips like they belong there, and he kisses him like it’s what he’s wanted to do all night. And it kind of is. It definitely is.

It’s brief, but it’s sweet, and both boys are flustered as they part. They don’t stray too far from each other though. They’re safe and sound under the awning of the front porch, tucked away from the rest of the sleeping neighborhood.

“I meant…for our next date,” Jack says sheepishly, and Bitty sees even redder than before.

“Oh! Um—oh God…” He fudges.

Jack leans in and kisses the corner of Bitty’s mouth softly, slowly, and Bitty has yet again completely lost his previous train of thought.

“Should we go back to Annie’s for that milkshake?” Jack murmurs, and before he’s even finished his sentence Bitty is already nodding. “Let’s start over.”

“Let’s start over,” Bitty echoes, then backtracks, “Not all the way over though. I mean this—” he gestures a little bit between their faces, still close, “—doesn’t need rewinding, right? We could just…” His fingers curl around the collar of Jack’s letterman and he uses his hold as leverage to pull the taller boy closer.

“Oh, yeah, no, we can… Yeah.”

“Mmkay.”

Bitty pulls him into another kiss.

 

 

The jocks have a new table in the cafeteria. It was Jack’s suggestion.

You would think that putting the jocks right next to the greasers is a bad idea.

 

You’ve never been more wrong.

**Author's Note:**

> Alright folks, that's all. I really hope you enjoyed that. It's been a hot minute since I last wrote for these two.  
> Below will be a list of all the 50s slang I used for those of you who need a little translation:
> 
> Ain’t that a bite = that’s too bad  
> Apple butter = smooth talk or flattery  
> Back seat bingo = necking in a car  
> Beat feet = to depart quickly  
> Big tickle = really funny  
> Boss = great  
> Bust a gut = to laugh very hard  
> Candy ass = a wimp or easily scared  
> Circled = married  
> Classy chassis = a great body  
> Cut the gas = be quiet!  
> Fat city = a great thing or place; happy  
> Flatter bum = a good looking guy  
> Flick = a movie  
> Fream = someone who doesn’t fit in  
> Gas (it was a gas) = fun, a good time  
> Nosebleed = stupid, an idiot  
> No sweat = no problem  
> Nuggets = loose change  
> Passion Pit = drive-in movie theater  
> Razz my berries = excite or impress me  
> Real gone = very much in love  
> Rumble = a fight among gangs  
> Spaz = someone who is uncoordinated, a clutz  
> Swell = great, good or wonderful (can also be used sarcastically)  
> Upchuck = vomit or throw up  
> What’s buzzin, cuzzin? = what’s new?
> 
> I had so much fun implementing all these words and phrases and now I can't stop using the phrase "razz my berries". It's driving me nuts.


End file.
